


Glimmer

by titansatemysoul



Series: Wayward Son, We're By Your Side (Prompt Fill Collection) [11]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prompt Fill, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:49:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22075750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titansatemysoul/pseuds/titansatemysoul
Summary: The days around the solstice are never easy for the Prince of Lucis. But with Ignis by his side, there's a glimmer in even the worst of times.(A collection of moments.)
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Series: Wayward Son, We're By Your Side (Prompt Fill Collection) [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1134263
Comments: 8
Kudos: 36





	Glimmer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kandismon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kandismon/gifts).



In the garden in the courtyard of the Citadel, there’s a place where Noctis likes to hide. A few bushes that have seen better days, their branches creating a tiny dome that the Prince discovered one day chasing after a cat. It keeps him out of the sun and away from the prying eyes of his many caretakers, a place that only belongs to him; and Ignis, of course. And so, when Noctis goes missing the night of the winter solstice dinner, Ignis knows just where to look.

He finds Noctis sitting under a halo of withered leaves, dirt and bits of branch dirtying his holiday suit.

“It's too cold to be out here, Noct. Everyone is worried,” Ignis tells him. As the Prince of Lucis’ retainer, it’s Ignis’ duty to bring him back and make sure he’s properly reprimanded. That’s what he’s supposed to do. Instead, Ignis sits down beside him, leaning over to watch Noctis as he fights a small pixelated dragon on his handheld.

“Is this about the King?”

Noctis gives him a sideways glance, the blue of his irises piercing, even in the darkness.

“He’s my _dad_. Don’t call him that.”

“I have to,” is all Ignis says, but he offers Noctis an apologetic smile, which he seems to accept. Pausing his game, Noctis sets it down, pulling his knees up to his chest. They sit there for a while, not speaking, Ignis looking at Noctis, Noctis looking at the ground until he asks,

“Do you think he’s going to die like my mom did?”

Most of the Citadel doesn’t know that the King of Lucis collapsed during dinner with Noctis the night before. They were assured it was nothing, a bit of exhaustion and a seasonal flu. Noctis is used to people not telling him things. His father, his teachers, sometimes, even Ignis. He’s developed a sort of sixth sense about it in his ten short years in the world. Now is one of those times, something about the way he saw his father talking to Clarus and Cor once they thought Noct had been taken back to his room.

“Ignis, say something!”

“Sorry,” Ignis replies hastily. He puts an arm around Noctis, giving him an affectionate squeeze. Something is amiss, but Ignis tells him it’s going to be alright, and Noctis decides to believe him.

-

“My dad can’t use the Armiger anymore,” Noctis says, his neck craned slightly upward so Ignis can fix his tie. Ignis pauses, mid-loop. “He told me this morning.”

“I suppose this means you’ll be the one cutting the ribbon to the plaza this year,” the adviser says after a moment. “I hope you’ve been practicing.”

Every year, the plaza outside the Citadel is closed for one month. Various talents around Insomnia dress the trees and set up free standing holiday sculptures, the entire scene covered in lights that stay lit through the new year. Thousands have already gathered for a glimpse of magic when the King uses Armigers blade to cut through a golden ribbon. Now, it will be Noct’s turn.

“They should just give him a pair of scissors.”

“Well that takes all the fun out of it, don’t you think?”

Noctis isn’t in the mood for humor, pulling away as soon as he’s finished and turning his back on Ignis.

“I hate this,” he says, voice tight and shoulders tensed. Noctis flinches when Ignis approaches, wrapping his arms around from behind. Slowly, he relaxes, turning when Ignis rests his chin on his shoulder.

“Me too.”

“I haven’t been practicing, honestly,” Noctis says when there’s a chime on the intercom, signaling they’re expected in the entrance hall. He flashes Ignis a grin. They hold hands until they get to the elevator, dropping them before the guards can see. “Hopefully no one gets hurt.”

Ignis laughs. As they reach the ground floor, Noctis straightens himself and Ignis takes his place behind him, one step to the right. He leans over, enough that Noct can feel warm breath on his ear.

“I know you’ll get every moment with your dad you deserve. It will be alright, Noct.”

Regis is waiting by the door to the Citadel, in full dress, flanked by Cor, Clarus and Gladio. He wears a golden brace around one knee and supports himself with a cane, but his presence still feels larger than life. God-like, the way it did when Noctis was little. Like nothing has changed.

Noct is able to summon his blade without incident, cutting the ribbon to the Citadel plaza to the crowd’s applause. As the citizens enter the park to enjoy the holiday display, Noctis climbs up to the platform where Ignis is observing with the other palace officials. They stand next to one another, watching as thousands of tiny lights flicker on, casting colorful shadows on the crowd as soft, cheery music begins to play.

Ignis gives Noct a cautionary glance when he takes his hand, but he doesn’t reject it, twining their fingers together instead. As the officials begin to descend the platform for their yearly tour of the plaza display, Noctis catches his father watching him from the opposite platform.

He looks proud.

-

The town is bustling as Lestallum’s citizens welcome the winter solstice, the hum of celebration and the smell of charcoal and hot oil wafting in through the open window. A band plays just below, playing Lucian folk songs that Noctis doesn’t know have nearly lulled him to sleep when Ignis enters the hotel room.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Ignis says when Noctis sits up in bed. He’s carrying a few small take out containers, utensils and two bottles of juice balanced carefully on top.

“I wasn’t asleep,” Noctis replies, trying to stifle the yawn that suggests otherwise. “What is that?”

“Just a little gift.”

“It’s a rice bowl,” Noctis says flatly when he opens the container. “Thanks, I guess?”

“The dessert is the gift,” Ignis chuckles, handing him the smaller box. Noctis lights up when he opens it, the pasty inside still warm, dusted in powdered sugar with berry garnish tucked in the corners. “They were selling them in the market. You’ll have to tell me if they got it right.”

Outside, everyone has started singing along with the musicians, some holiday tune that must be popular in the countryside.

“It doesn’t feel like the holiday.”

“No, not really,” Ignis agrees. “ _Winter_ solstice doesn’t really seem appropriate when we can barely keep our jackets on.”

“My dad always wanted to spend the holiday out here. He always said he’d take me one day.”

Before Ignis can think of a response, Noctis abandons his dinner, unable to resist the pastry for a moment longer. He watches as the prince bites into the tart, brow knitting as he chews.

“It’s close,” he says, offering Ignis a bite. The berry filling gushes in his mouth, sweet with just a hint of sour as he swallows. Noctis is close behind, pressing their lips together, his tongue darting out to lick away some sugar on Ignis’ bottom lip. “I like yours much better, though.”

With Prompto and Gladio off getting drunk at a food stand in the market, Ignis and Noctis spend the winter solstice alone. Bellies full, they go out onto the balcony to listen to the musicians play. When they start to play a familiar carol, Noctis starts to sing. At the Citadel, he would always pretend, mouthing along with everyone else. But in front of Ignis, it’s real until the very last word.

-

On the first solstice of the scourge, Ignis refuses to celebrate.

“It will be good for morale,” Gladio insists, arguing from the other side of a locked door. “People are going to notice if you aren’t there.”

But Ignis doesn’t answer, and eventually, Gladio gives up. Instead, he watches from the balcony of the Leville as the hunters pass around extra rations. Everyone is bundled in jackets and blankets tucked around their soldiers. The abrupt change in temperature has been the hardest adjustment for the remaining residents of Lestallum, every day getting colder with no indication of a change in course.

There’s extra meat this evening, some sweets for the children, and even some whisky, though most of the hunters pass it by. Everyone would rather have the tiny bottles of water they know is locked up in the dispensary, pure and factory sealed from before everything went to hell. There isn’t enough anymore, their stores dwindling dangerously low and the usual reservoirs contaminated by daemon activity.

Ignis looks up at the sky, murky as it has been since the day Noctis disappeared. Tonight, there are clouds, too. If only it would snow.

“Ignis! Come down here!”

It’s Iris, waving up at him and making everyone look in his direction.

“Come on,” Prompto joins her, lifting a plate like Ignis could see it from so far away. “There’s cake!”

He wonders if this is what Noctis felt like when Ignis dragged him to the mandatory celebrations at the Citadel. Noct always complained of course, and tried every excuse to be absent, but he always enjoyed himself in the end. Always thanked Ignis for making him go later on.

Ignis concedes, grabbing his jacket off the couch as he heads for the street.

Iris is there to meet him at the steps, pushing a plate with a small piece of cake into his hands.

“I knew you wouldn’t let us down.”

Suddenly there’s a tiny shriek, and they look to see a little girl lifting her hand towards the sky. Ignis can see the tiny flakes start to fall, catching on the canvas coverings.

The solstice comes to pass, leaving a blanket of snow across Lestallum for the very first time.

-

Ignis is looking over ration tables when he receives the phone call, Talcott going a mile a minute, whatever he’s saying meaningless after _Noctis is here_. Ignis isn’t in Hammerhead, but he’s on the road moments later, trying to keep eyes on the road and his foot metered on the gas. He has no expectations until the last minute, his mind not yet willing to entertain the possibility that Noctis is really waiting for him. Then it overwhelms, rendering him nearly mute as a familiar figure steps out of the pick-up. All he can do is watch as Gladio and Prompto greet him, wearing ear to ear grins and making quips about the way he looks. To be fair, he looks positively haggard, even by scourge standards. His clothes are threadbare and covered in dirt, disheveled overgrown hair obscuring most of his face and a beard now dressing his jaw and lip.

As Noctis approaches him, his smile softens, curls into something that’s always been reserved for Ignis alone. Ignis is still trying to remember how to use his voice when Noctis says, “I’d hug you, but –”

Ignis is almost sorry to cut him off, realizing only in that moment how much he’s truly forgotten what Noctis sounds like. Instead, Noct gets the wind nearly knocked out of him by the force of the collision as Ignis throws his arms around him. Noctis chuckles, so familiar despite the fact that it’s a little deeper and husky as he returns the embrace.

“ _You’re here._ ”

Days later they find themselves in the base beneath Insomnia, the last night before Noctis reclaims the Citadel and his place in the world.

“I’m scared,” Noctis admits, when they’re alone in bed. Ignis rolls over to face him, brushing some of the hair of his face. His fingers falter as they brush against the grain of Noct’s beard. The new Noctis has taken some getting used to.

“Me too,” Ignis says. “But I’m not worried.”

“Why not?”

Ignis doesn’t answer right away, climbing out of bed to rifle through his jacket pocket. He returns with his phone, opening its calendar.

“The summer solstice is in two days,” he shows Noctis. “ _When_ we succeed, the first day of sunlight will be the longest day of the year.”

“That’s not really an answer.”

Ignis laughs quietly, ducking down to catch Noctis in a kiss. He is scared, terrified of losing Noctis for a second time. Of letting down all the people who are counting on them. But Ignis has already faced the enemy on his own, has seen the cracks that Ardyn has tried to hide. Ignis wasn’t strong enough to finish the job back then, but Noctis saved him. And now he’ll save them all.

“I believe in you. That’s all I need.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this satisfies your need for a little bit of ignoct sads! I can't tell you how much I adored my ignoct art, thank you so much for doing this little trade with me! And thank you for being patient, I hope you had a good holiday season <3
> 
> Thank you Isel for helping me sort out what about this fic wasn't quite clicking! 
> 
> (P.S. The song I had in mind for the scene in Lestallum is called [Winter Carol by Carol Shaw](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9cAvm7uL5Zg))


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